


My Morning Rose - Rinko/Sayo Fluff/Sickfic

by FemmeFairie



Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Cuddling & Snuggling, Explicit Consent, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Character, Romantic Fluff, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27925864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemmeFairie/pseuds/FemmeFairie
Summary: When Rinko Shirokane, piano prodigy and member of Roselia, falls ill on tour, it is up to her beloved Sayo to nurse her back to health.Both characters are slightly aged up (18 years old). A bit of light angst at the beginning and then tons and tons of cute fluff!
Relationships: Hikawa Sayo/Shirokane Rinko
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	1. Wither

* * *

_ “How do I love thee?  _

_ Let me count the ways.”  _

_ — Elizabeth Barrett Browning _

* * *

Regardless of Ako's murmurings, Rinko Shirokane could not stop quivering. 

It was a feverish feeling, deep in her arms and legs and chest. Her tongue seemed to be locked in place, and her fingers, arguably the most important part of a pianist's body, were just as locked as her gritted teeth. 

"Rinko." It was Ako still. Her auburn eyes were widened in concern. The door opened and closed behind her small frame, staff and band members alike rushing in and out in preparation for the third last show of the  _ Rose Blue  _ Tour.

Rinko herself had designed the stage outfits: A blue, elegant bodice, silver lacework, accented with smokey makeup from the stylists. Mysterious and calming. 

"We only have three shows left, okay? We-we can do it?" 

Rinko gasped, as when she looked back at Ako, the walls behind her appeared to be closing in, and black dots overtook her vision. She stumbled. 

"Rin-Rin?” 

The walls were up against her, pulling in her chest, tugging on the strings of her limbs like a marionette doll. Hot, everything was hot. The air, the walls, the stickiness in her mouth that kept her from speaking. Even Ako’s hand, against her shoulder, was searing through her thin sleeves. 

With a final gasp, Rinko collapsed. A staff member ran over with a water bottle, but Rinko was fixated on something—or rather  _ someone _ —else

Sayo Hikawa—guitarist. Teal-coloured hair, emerald eyes. A cloth was clutched in her hand as she bolted in Rinko’s direction. Rinko let out a strained cough that wracked her body. 

“Rinko . . .” A small but sharp voice was speaking to her; it quivered with concern but also anxiousness—someone was worried, not just about Rinko herself, but anxious for the entire group’s success. It was only in this moment that Rinko remembered the tour, and her hard work, and with that, she felt a surge of reckless courage.  _ Get up!  _

A cold compress held her down. With her vision still dotted, Rinko could just make out Sayo Hikawa with both hands on Rinko’s forehead. Rinko tried to reassert control over her legs; a disheartened moan escaped her lips. 

_ I just can’t, Sayo, I just can’t.  _

Even though she wanted to. Even though the band depended on it. 

And yet, Sayo was out of character. She did not yell, or prod, or snap Rinko out of it. She only kept her eyes on her, wet with concern, and kept holding the cloth to her forehead, murmuring all the while to keep her conscious. 

Seconds or hours later a group of staff members arrived and spoke with Sayo. An agreement must have been made for she begrudgingly parted with Rinko with a final warm look, leaving the staff to hoist Rinko’s responseless body onto a stretcher. 

With Sayo’s eyes in mind, Rinko soon fell into sleep. 

Outside the closed door, on a stage, Sayo’s fingers made their first contact with the guitar strings. With Rinko in mind, she began to play. Her eyes didn’t meet the crowd once. 

When the music had ended, and so did the thrumming adrenaline that came with it, Sayo could not think to return to the staff rooms. If anything the music had heightened her worry; she saw Rinko’s pale features in every song she poured to the audience; the way she had fallen like all her quiet strength and fortitude had evaporated haunted her truly. Sayo knew firsthand what strength Rinko held inside; it was not like her, at all, to simply collapse. 

The back rooms were chaos—women and men in blouses with clothes and brushes in hand—and yet Sayo, gratefully, was the first one out of the two band members to enter. Feeling a telltale burn in her eyes, Sayo rushed past the protests of the staff, seeking the exit. Her stage outfit snagged on the entrance and for a second she struggled, cursing and thrashing. 

Eventually she broke, and made haste. The night was blissfully cold, yet there was a longing for warmth that the young adult couldn’t deny. 

With the moon on her side, Sayo continued into the night in search of her girl. 


	2. Warmth

> _ "Shall I compare thee to a summer day? _
> 
> _ Thou art more lovely and more temperate." _
> 
> \-  _ William Shakespeare (Sonnet 18) _
> 
> * * *

There was a need for silence upon first entering the dorm. A careful silence, broken only by the fatigued breaths of Sayo and the rhythmic breathing of Rinko on her futon. A cornered animal—that’s what it sounded like. Aware. Fearful. Waiting. 

With a great sigh, having restored her shortened breath, Sayo turned on the teakettle; the sound of its whirring greatly comforted her weary heart so dampened by Rinko's condition. 

_ Should I wake her?  _

Sayo studied the tense arc of her brow. The roundness of her cheeks was always a pleasant feature that usually would bring Sayo comfort, and in turn, a blush on her own face, but in her agony she had lost all the smooth roundness; her jaw was clenched and her teeth ground together. Her eyes were obscured by her black bangs. Oh, how she missed the peeking of violets, the shy but inquiring way she would look up at Sayo when she was being talked to. It reminded Sayo briefly of their first coffee date. How Sayo had held the door for Rinko and asked her for her order—the other girl being anxious at ordering herself—and Rinko had looked up at her, from behind her bangs, and with that sweetness in her violet eyes that said _thank you_ and _I'm listening_. 

The teakettle button released with a pop as it came to a boil. Rinko groaned and shifted. Her right eye opened slowly. 

She gasped upon realization: “Sayo! What . . . what are you doing here?” 

“I came to find you, of course.” Sayo placed down two teacups, filling them to the brim with hot water. Notes of citrus and black tea soon arose in the air—Rinko's favourite was anything floral. “I was worried, naturally. Who wouldn’t be, Shirokane-san, after what had happened? I am an older sister above all else; I can’t count how many times I grew sick, albeit in denial, over one thing and another about Hina.” Hot steam wafted around Sayo's face, obscuring her. “Ah, how she worries me so.

“So, Shirokane-san,” Sayo added with more conviction, “what did occur today? Are you stressed, or just exhausted?” 

Rinko’s cheeks grew reddened at the attention; just how could she be in a room with someone nursing her to health like this? If anything, she would prefer to be alone, at her piano, or even with Ako-chan online. But to be seen so closely in such light . . . it was unbearable for an introvert like Rinko. Unlike Hikawa-san, Rinko was an only child—she was accustomed to dealing with sickness on her own, in her room. Not here. 

And, if Rinko was being honest, Sayo made her nervous more than anything. It was that fluttering feeling, that anticipation of her attentions, that drove her heart past its limit. The closer Sayo got, the more it beat. 

“I . . . Hikawa-san, I don’t think I’m stressed, if anything . . . I was invigorated! But I suddenly was overcome by this wave of heat and I lost all sense of my body. And then I fell, I guess, and you” — a blush tinted her cheeks and she curled her fingers against her chin — “you were next to me, holding a cold compress to my head. I was grateful and tried to get up, and then I fainted with the effort.” 

Sayo’s eyes grew sharp, and Rinko recoiled.  _ Had she made her mad now finally?  _

“Shirokane-san,” Sayo said sharply. “You had a  _ panic attack  _ for God’s sake—you  _ fainted  _ not because your body was tired but because you were  _ overwhelmed.  _ The tour must have gotten to you and then you just couldn’t take it anymore and turned off.” 

“Well, it-it is our first, um, tour,” Rinko stammered, fear clouding her features.  _ What do I do?  _

Sayo, releasing a heavy sigh, turned back to Rinko. “I’m sorry, Shirokane-san. I don’t know what got a hold of me there; I just felt extremely worried, that’s all. And I’m glad you aren’t sick, but at the same time a panic attack is a huge deal.” Sayo looked away shyly. "I've had plenty," she admitted. 

Rinko hummed in approval, albeit shocked at the statement, curling her body together into the futon. “I . . . I didn’t think I was nervous though,” she whispered. “What could it be, Hikawa-san?” 

Sayo brought the tray to Rinko, who got up and curled her knees to her chest for comfort; she took a steaming mug, observing the fragrant contents. “Sometimes,” Sayo said, placing her hand on Rinko’s shoulder, “we can be overwhelmed without knowing. Eventually, like a cup of tea, it boils up and we suddenly can’t take it anymore even though we never noticed the rising of our temperature. But, Rinko, you are not weak; you are the strongest person I know, and this . . . incident doesn’t change that. Ever.” 

Rinko sniffed and took a sip of the tea. The effect was immediate, and a hot flush soon spread along her clavicle and forehead, the pallor and sheen of the skin worrying Sayo immensely. 

Sayo patted Rinko’s hand, taking the handle from her. “Later,” she said. “You are still overwhelmed, Shirokane-san. I don’t want you to overheat.” 

“I’m not hot; I feel tired.” 

Sayo hummed. She sat down beside Rinko. “Is there anything I can do to help your condition Shirokane-san?”  _ Is there anything I can do? Anything?  _

“Hikawa-san,” Rinko said. Her hand reached for Sayo and held on. Rinko's fingers were suprisingly soft, but still calloused around the sides. A pianist's fingers. They held on gently but surely. There was no hesitiation from Rinko's end. “Can you stay with me?” 

Sayo’s eyes widened.  _ Stay with her? After all this time—after all these failed dates—she . . . she wants me to stay with her?  _

Rinko, who was already in her pajamas, a white cotton set with cartoon sloths, appeared far comfier and sleep-ready than Sayo, who still wore a full face of stage makeup and the dress that Rinko sewed herself before the tour. Sayo feigned indifference, relaxing her shoulders—she couldn't let Rinko know just how flustered she was inside at the idea of her changing to rest in the other girl's futon. 

“Give me a few seconds—I have to change out of this.” 

A small smile appeared on Rinko’s pale face. “Thank you, Sayo-chan.” 

Sayo flushed.  _ Sayo-chan?  _ It wasn’t often that Sayo was called that. Regardless, the redness on Sayo's stoic face made Rinko's smile even larger. 

Sayo hurried off to her room, face flaming violently.  _ Sleep in the same bed with Rinko?  _ Was that even allowed? And what if the other members saw? Or would they even care? 

With her mind full of different scenarios, Sayo headed back to the main room where Rinko still sat on the futon in her pajamas, curled up expectantly, legs adorably criss-crossed. Sayo felt her heart quicken in the presence of such cuteness. _How could she not? Wouldn't anybody?_

Gently, she set herself down and was slightly disappointed—and also relieved—when Rinko turned away and went under the covers to sleep. _Was I really expecting anything more?_

Sayo stared out the window for a minute, thinking of the possibilites. Growing tired of her thoughts, Sayo joined Rinko under the covers. Their backs which faced opposite directions were nearly touching. 

_ Would either of them bridge the gap tonight?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading the second and first chapter! I hope this can offer you some warmth on these often cold days. I'll try to finish the fic as soon as possible. 
> 
> Lots more cuddles and kisses to come!


	3. Between

> _ "In black ink,  _
> 
> _ My love will still shine bright"  _
> 
> — Sonnet 65
> 
> * * *

_ Morning couldn’t come sooner,  _ thought Sayo on her side of the futon, her back just barely touching Rinko’s own. The warmth was undeniably comforting, but all the same it was unbearable—there was a line there, in the curve of her spine, something that wasn’t to be crossed or checked off. The risk? Her friendship, her band . . . her own family. 

_ And yet,  _ Sayo thought,  _ can I really hold off when she’s dreaming in such an adorable way?  _

With the barest tilt of her head, Sayo cautiously made out Rinko’s face in the dappled light of the oval-shaped room. Her lips, still glossed from rehearsal, were parted; small murmurs came from them, sweet and musical in Rinko’s telltale soft voice. It was a stark contrast to Sayo’s first remembrance of her sleeping which had been all fear and bated breathing. This was, Sayo realized, peace—even comfort. 

_ Alas, I want to touch her. I want to _ —

Except Rinko’s fingers, concealed under the covers, already had. Softly, they found Sayo’s neckline, tangling into the warmth of Sayo’s collarbone. Rinko let out a content sigh. 

_ Rinko!  _ Sayo felt herself blushing from head to toe. Whether Rinko herself was aware of it in her sleep or not—did it matter when it felt so right, to her? 

_ I have to return it though, even if she isn’t; I can’t hesitate not anymore _ .  _ I’m . . . I’m sick of holding back my love for everyone!  _

Sayo flipped completely over to her other side so that her navel was facing Rinko’s back. The barest space, captured by Sayo’s breath, separated them—a hair’s length. Sayo closed the distance, felt her arms wrap around Rinko’s warm midsection, and smooth back the black locks with the hand that cradled her neck. Tucked her face into the divet between her nape and shoulder blades as a cat curls into its favourite nook that reminds it of home. And, without meaning to, let out a large—rather loud—sigh. 

“Sayo . . . chan?” 

“Rinko?” Sayo retracted her arms, moving herself back to her side. The cold sunk in. “I’m sorry, Shirokane-san. I don’t know what came over me there.”

Rinko turned, and Sayo met the full intensity of her eyes, when angered, like burnt lavender stocks.  _ But why?  _

“I know,” said Sayo, “it was a breach of contract. Isn’t that what you think?” 

A peculiar shine ran through Rinko’s eyes; emotions, maybe even . . . pain?

“Am I a bad hugger?” Sayo asked. “Because if I am I’ll—” 

“Sayo, I’m going to kiss you now, because I don’t think you understand how I feel. Is that okay?” 

Sayo had never felt her heart let go in the moment it did then; or perhaps, was it more likely that it was the moment it became alive? That it went from an empty being, a marionette, to a living creature, filled with emotions? 

"Yes." 

Rinko was a gentle kisser, but intuitive. Barely parted, she pressed her lips against Sayo’s, which trembled, and sensing anxiousness, ran her hand softly along the nape of the blue-haired girl’s neck. Instantly, Sayo relaxed and shivered into her touch, letting her head lean forward.

When they parted, as Shakespeare once said, it was such as  sweet sorrow. To have Rinko’s taste on Sayo’s lips was an aliveness that could have no replica. There was only Rinko, and Sayo was perfectly content to kiss more, and more, and more until she could replicate that feeling again. 

“Rinko,” breathed Sayo into the crook of Rinko’s neck, “I never expected you to make the first move.” 

“Ah? Well . . . pianists always make the first move, you know—when we sit down at the piano, we sit down with the intention of playing the music, sometimes even before it’s written.” 

“I see. I wish I had your mind, Shirokane-san.” 

“Sayo,” Rinko said. “Call me Rinko.” 

“Well, I wish I had your mind then,  _ Rinko-chan. _

“How shall we sleep now?” With adrenaline still pumping through her veins, it was hard for Sayo to imagine trying to sleep; but, being considerate of the one she loved, she could see the fatigue that was still worn into the lines of Rinko’s sweet face. 

“Well . . . if you stay close . . . it will be like we are still together even as we . . . sleep.” A blush appeared on Rinko’s face. “But . . . don’t think . . .” 

Sayo pressed her lips down on Rinko’s cheek. “Don’t worry, I understand. Tonight is for resting, and being close.” 

In the five minutes that Sayo lay, cuddling Rinko, rhymically combing through her hair with her eyes wide open, the other girl was soon asleep despite her earlier excitement. Sayo, on the other hand, took time to think. 

_ What a beautiful night this has become _ — _ all because of this odd scenario.  _ The moon, likely overtaken by a cloud, shed the barest hint of light on Rinko’s sleeping eyes. Sayo could see the individual hairs, the way Sayo’s breath stirred them.  _ Like a rose, slowly brushed by the wind.  _

With the imagery of Rinko blooming like a rose in Sayo’s mind, Sayo soon fell prey to the sweetness that was sleep; and Rinko, upon awakening at that moment, became aware of the moon on her eyes, and Sayo by her neck, and felt, for once, at complete peace. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the fluff begins! It only gets cuter from here, hehehehe ^^ Also, I had to include consent; I feel like it's important that we see more consent in fanfics so...


	4. A stirring breeze

> _ "Love is not love _
> 
> _ That alters when it alteration finds;  _
> 
> _ Nor bends with the remover to remove.  _
> 
> _ Oh, no, it is an ever fixed mark _
> 
> _ That looks upon tempests and is never shaken"  _
> 
> — Sonnet 116

* * *

Rinko awoke, peacefully, in Sayo's strong arms, held against her warmth and slow moving chest. To her own surprise, a blush didn't form, but all the same Rinko was made aware of the hands of her companion. One was tangled in her hair; the other, seemingly left to its own curious accord, was under her shirt—it rested precariously on her navel, the fingers warm and giving the now awake Rinko a wave of goosebumps and a pit of butterflies in her stomach that spread throughout her entire body. 

If she opened her eyes, would it be any less beautiful? Like a dream, Rinko feared to open her eyes yet the moment passed, and faded, and lost its grandeur and warmth. She wanted it the way it was—now—forever. 

She turned, slowly lifting the arms of the other girl, meeting her sleeping face. In sleep, Sayo was soft; all the sharpness had dissipated from her face. She looked angelic with her teal hair, the smooth high slope of her nose.  _ And her neck,  _ Rinko mused with some embarrassment,  _ it was so ethereal.  _

Through Sayo’s tank top, Rinko could see the gentle slope of Sayo’s collarbones, and the ridge of lean muscle on each shoulder blade, sloping to a muscular and full chest. Rinko wanted to put her face between that divet. Breathe in her scent, the warmth of vanilla soap and skin. 

_ Have I always been so inclined to stare at Sayo-chan’s muscles?  _

Rinko found herself losing sense—was this what true love did to your brain? 

“Hmph,” Rinko sighed, staring at Sayo’s shoulders. Unable to continue  _ just  _ staring, she scooted downwards in the bed so that she was level with her neck; then, she carefully placed her face within the warm area. 

It was even better than she imagined. 

But, what was that sound that Rinko heard all of a sudden?  _ Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump, thump.  _ It was speeding up, not slowing down— _ Sayo’s heart.  _

“Rinko?” 

Rinko closed her eyes, feigning sleep.  _ If I just pretend to sleep, she won’t think I’m weird, right?  _

Sayo made a noise in the back of her throat that stirred something new in Rinko’s stomach. She felt the warmth of Sayo’s lips on the crown of her head—a kiss. Rinko curled in further, sighing. 

“Rinko-chan,” Sayo said. “I know when you are faking things, and I believe you are faking sleep right now.” 

“No . . . I’m . . . not,” Rinko replied. 

Silence. Rinko continued her charade and feigned a large snore that made the other girl scoff. She opened her mouth against Sayo’s skin like she was in a deep sleep. 

“I know what will wake you up, Shirokane-san,” Sayo crooned; Rinko felt her heart quicker in response to the playfulness in the other’s voice. 

Suddenly, Sayo was over Rinko, pinning her by the wrists to the top of the pillow. Rinko kept her eyes closed but let out a small gasp. 

Sayo leaned in, her breath warm against Rinko’s lips, just barely touching. “Wake . . . up . . . Rinko.” Every word was punctuated by a leaning in of Sayo’s lips. One, two, three,  _ there.  _ Sayo kissed her and Rinko, who’s own kissing style was vastly different from Sayo’s, had to open her eyes in result if only to witness what was now happening above her. 

Rinko gasped. She tangled her hands around Sayo’s neck. 

“Rinko,” Sayo gasped. A trail of saliva hung from between their lips; a product of Sayo’s rougher kissing. “Was . . . was that okay?” 

Rinko blushed and said nothing. From this angle, she could clearly see the shape of Sayo’s muscles now, the biceps which bulged as she propped herself up over Rinko’s slight frame. 

“Yes,” Rinko managed; she spoke as if far away. 

_ She’s so . . . amazing.  _

“Sayo.” 

“Yes, Rinko?” 

“Kiss me like that again,” she said, holding on to Sayo’s neck, “please.” 

The kiss was fire. While Rinko never imagined herself enjoying the use of tongue, with Sayo, she found it rather pleasant and most of all exciting. It was like a game, their tongues; and in this game, Rinko was losing greatly. Sayo overpowered her. But Rinko had a trick that Sayo couldn’t trace. 

Rinko pulled Sayo down by the back of her neck, Sayo gasping in surprise. She latched on to the teal-haired girl’s neck, bestowing a gentle kiss that made Sayo shiver. She dug her hands deeper into her hair. 

“Aren’t you tired, Rinko?” 

Rinko let go, letting herself slack against the sheets. “I suppose . . . my nervousness is in recovery, no?” 

Sayo’s brow furrowed. “So it is, but I’m still not entirely convinced you are better.” 

“Well, then . . . you’ll just have to keep staying with me until I am—if you want to that is.” 

Sayo burrowed herself into Rinko’s chest. “Of course, my sweetest flower.”

The two sighed and settled back down, albeit begrudgingly, on top of the sheets. The sunlight shone in each other’s eyes, drawing out the mystic glow of those newly in love.  _ Or perhaps,  _ thought Rinko,  _ not so newly. Perhaps, always there, but taking time to bloom. And when one rose withered, the other came to support it.  _

“Rinko?” 

“Yes, Sayo-senpai?” 

“I love you,” said Sayo. 

Rinko placed her hands on Sayo’s shoulders, leaning in for a warm and quick kiss like the fluttering of stirred rose petals. 

“And . . . I love you too,” Rinko replied softly. 

Sayo placed her chin on the shorter girl’s head. Was it always this warm to be around Rinko? The warmth was full, as if it had come from the bottoms of spring, flowers and puddles and gentle winds. 

“I’m glad, my love, I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've made it to the end! Slightly steamer than I expected, but it felt just right to write (tongue twister). I hope you enjoyed some of this much needed fluff/steamy fluff. I tried to keep away from the angst! Let me know your thoughts, loves 
> 
> \- Fairie


End file.
